A few nights ago I stood and watched a cat chase a fox through the roadworks barriers at the top of my road. Neither animal seemed to notice they were being watched, and the fox looked baffled when the cat gave up the chase. I wish I'd grabbed a photo, it stayed staring at me for long enough.

On Saturday night, just after the big downpour, I was walking along the section of Charlton Road opposite the Springfield Estate, where front gardens are raised above the road. I saw a pair of eyes staring out at me in the dark and jumped… only to realise it was another fox, peering out and not knowing what to make of this idiot with an umbrella.

London's foxes divide opinion, even within individuals. A neighbour of mine was so annoyed when Hackney Reynard snatched one of his family chickens he bought a trap. His wife later told me that it worked. "What did he do with the fox?" I asked. "He felt sorry for it and let it go," she replied.

We now know that the video showing supposed urban foxhunters killing a fox in Victoria Park was a hoax. I have no big quarrel with the creatures. True, I wish they'd have sex more quietly but then Londoners have been saying that about their fellow residents for centuries. Darryl is a serious fan. Now read on.